


he who falls asleep first

by Padraigen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Padraigen/pseuds/Padraigen
Summary: In which Tom absolutely doesnotsnore, thank youverymuch.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 26
Kudos: 362





	he who falls asleep first

“You did _what_?!”

“Oh, calm down,” Hermione chastised, although she herself wasn’t the picture of perfect tranquility. “I don’t really want to go either”—an understatement—“but I’ve already told her yes. It isn’t such a big deal.”

_Not a big deal?_ Because _who wouldn’t_ want to spend a Hogsmeade weekend going on a double date—triple date?—with Lavender Brown and Cormac McLaggen?

“Tom will never agree to it,” Harry blurted, grabbing onto the excuse like a lifeline.

“You have to convince him, Harry!” Ron cried out, looking just as miserable as Harry felt. “You wouldn’t really leave me to a lunch date alone with Hermione, _Lavender_ , and _Cormac McLaggen_ , would you? I’m your best mate, remember!”

This was true. And Ron’s pleading gaze was proper pitiful-like. Unfortunately for him, even Harry’s sympathy had its limits.

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione chided weakly. But if her pinched lips were anything to go by, she was no more thrilled by the prospect than either of them.

“I’ll ask,” Harry grudgingly agreed. It wouldn’t do any harm, Harry was sure. Tom would never agree.

—

Tom had agreed.

He looked right pleased about it, too, as he did up his Slytherin-green tie and polished his _Head Boy_ badge for the eighth time, the great bloody pillock.

“You’re the worst,” Harry muttered darkly.

Tom hummed in evident agreement. “However do you put up with me?” he drawled, using a frankly alarming amount of hair gel to slick back his hair. Harry wrinkled his nose, even if he did like the final product.

“With the patience of a saint and a convenient dash of insanity.”

Tom tsked. “It would be impolite not to go after it was already assumed we had agreed.”

Harry scoffed. “So? It’s _Lavender_ and _McLaggen_. Who cares about being polite?”

The smirk that brightened Tom’s face as he stared fixedly into the mirror of the Slytherin boys’ bathroom told Harry that Tom certainly didn’t actually care, and this whole act was only meant to mess with him.

What an arse.

Harry wasn’t strictly permitted to be in here, but being the boyfriend of Slytherin’s most esteemed student had its perks. It also had its downsides, Harry thought sourly, watching as Tom took a step back from the mirror and turned to him, as if he had finally finished preening himself.

Case in point.

Tom gave him an obvious once-over, taking in his jeans and muted, dark blue shirt. He made a face. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

Harry scowled and spun on his heel, striding out of the bathroom without deigning to respond.

—

They walked to Hogsmeade in shared silence, Harry’s spiteful and Tom’s unconcerned.

Tom had at some point pulled out a book, and was expertly traversing the path as he turned pages at the same time. Harry glowered and hoped he tripped or, better yet, walked into a nonexistent pole. He definitely wasn’t scanning the ground before them, seeking out anything that might be an obstacle in Tom’s path and subtly steering him out of the way.

The _Three Broomsticks_ was a welcome warmth after the cooling air of autumn outside. Ron and Hermione had already secured a table for six, and Harry pulled out the seat next Ron. Tom took the empty chair beside him, his book having since disappeared.

“They’re not here yet?”

“We haven’t seen them,” Hermione said, fiddling with the sleeve of her nice, teal blue jumper. She seemed to have made more of an effort at combing and styling her hair than she usually did, and Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly at Ron. He got only a shrug in response.

“Well, maybe they’ll have forgotten,” Harry said hopefully.

“Great.” Ron slapped his hands down onto the table. “You’ve jinxed it. Now they’ll come in any minute now hanging off each other and singing each other’s praises.”

“ _Ron_ ,” Hermione sighed, the very definition of exasperation. “Perhaps you’d better go up and order a round of butterbeers, help take your mind off of it.”

Ron’s chair screeched as he pushed back from the table, all-too-happy to get away for a moment even though they weren’t even here yet.

“I’ll just have tea,” Tom requested. It was a testament to Ron’s state of mind that he didn’t try to argue.

The “relationship” between Ron and Lavender had been intense, short-lived, and—for Harry, at least—very weird. Hermione’s jealousy hadn’t helped the tension between the trio, which had ultimately forced Harry to find solace in the company of a Slytherin. Not that he was complaining. It had turned out that Tom was actually pretty great, when he wasn’t being a bastard.

Nonetheless, even though the whole debacle had led Harry to Tom—and had of course persuaded Hermione to admit her feelings for Ron—Lavender Brown was still a bit of a touchy subject.

And Cormac McLaggen was simply an unpleasant git none of them had ever liked.

It had taken some time for Ron and Hermione to warm up to Tom—and vice versa—but they seemed to get along now. Or, at the very least, Ron and Tom weren’t throwing hexes at each other in the middle of the corridors anymore, though Harry suspected there was less antagonism in the displays than there was amusement in riling each other up. Harry noticed it had only seemed to stop once Tom reached Head Boy status.

Incessant giggling reached his ears at that moment and, as one, Harry and Tom turned around to find that Ron had been right—though, to be fair, Lavender was more the one doing the hanging and praising while McLaggen had a constipated look on his face. Harry was sure that, whatever McLaggen was feeling right now, he definitely deserved it.

“Hermione, hello! Lovely to see you!” Lavender exclaimed, despite the fact they literally shared a dorm and had probably seen each other that morning. She took one of Hermione’s shoulders in her hand and pecked the air beside Hermione’s cheek.

This visibly flustered Hermione, who spluttered, “Yes, you as well,” and forced a smile to her face.

Tom had stood up to greet McLaggen—both of them being the only two seventh years at the table—his hand outstretched and a pleasant smile fixed in place that Harry knew to be false. “McLaggen.”

“Riddle.”

Harry would have rolled his eyes at the posturing if he wasn’t so pleased that Tom had clearly won their little game of superiority.

Ron came back just then—the cherry on top of the awkward-sundae—and the afternoon proceeded to be just as uncomfortable as Harry had imagined it would be.

Lavender simpered and giggled at every word that came out of McLaggen’s mouth, her hand always touching some part of him. McLaggen liked the attention, if the way he puffed his chest out satisfactorily whenever Lavender praised him was anything to go by.

A lot of stupid things came out of McLaggen’s mouth, which made Harry want to pound both their heads against the wall several times, until either he knocked some brains into McLaggen’s massive head or knocked himself out—whichever came first.

His only consolation was Tom, who met every imbecilic statement of McLaggen’s with a clever repartee. McLaggen didn’t even seem to realize he was being mocked, taunted, and ridiculed at every turn.

Harry had never fancied himself more in love.

And then, just as Harry thought he and Tom could reasonably make a run for it, the unthinkable happened.

“What do you like most about Harry, Tom?” Lavender asked sweetly, turning her full attention on Tom, who had suddenly gone very white.

Harry’s eyes widened, his chest constricting, because he _didn’t know what Tom was going to say._

Did he want him to laugh the question off? Ignore it? Or answer it honestly?

It seemed he wasn’t the only one waiting with bated breath. Ron, Hermione, and even McLaggen were all staring at Tom as well, anticipating his answer.

“I like that he takes even longer to fall asleep than I do, so I never have to listen to him snore,” Tom said smoothly, pushing his saucer with his empty tea cup away. “He’s very considerate like that.”

Harry’s breath left him all at once, his heart slowing its rapid beating. “I hate you.”

He and Tom had never slept in the same bed—Tom had never offered, and Harry was too scared to ask—so Tom must have opted to play the question off. Harry was absolutely not disappointed by this. Of course not.

Tom hummed. “It’s statements like that that make people question why I’m dating you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry snapped. “I don’t snore, and you wouldn’t know anyway, since apparently you’re already asleep… In fact, since I’m awake, I happen to know that _you’re_ the one who snores. Loudly.”

Tom huffed in outrage. “You dare try to besmirch my character with such heinous and blatantly false accusations?”

“ _Besmirch_ your _character_? Do you hear yourself?”

“Slander,” Tom insisted. “And you _absolutely_ do snore.”

Harry shook his head in bemusement. “At least I don’t use _cinnamon-flavored_ toothpaste. Honestly, Tom, you’re besmirching yourself.”

“That was _one time_. I do not have to explain myself to you again. Or at all.”

Someone cleared their throat, and Harry snapped his mouth shut right as he was about to say something else.

Four pairs of eyes were staring at them, Ron and Hermione’s in poorly concealed amusement, and Lavender and McLaggen’s in discomfort.

“I suppose we ought to be heading back to the castle now,” Hermione suggested.

Everyone seemed to be in agreement and, before long, Harry and Tom were ambling back towards Hogwarts. Lavender and McLaggen were several paces in front of them while Ron and Hermione had decided to stay back and look into _Honeydukes_.

Their silence was comfortable this time, and Harry’s heart fluttered a little in his chest when Tom reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers.

He squeezed Tom’s, and Tom squeezed back.

—

That evening, Tom surprised him by asking if he wanted to spend the night in Tom’s bed, assuring him his dorm mates wouldn’t have a problem with it.

Harry didn’t ask what he meant by “wouldn’t have a problem with it,” since he could guess well enough. Instead, he happily agreed, journeying up to Gryffindor tower to grab his nighttime things and explaining to Ron and Hermione where he was going to be with almost no embarrassment at all.

He returned to the dungeons, following Tom into the Slytherin common room and further, to his dorm room. Tom’s bed wasn’t any bigger than his own, which meant they had to press up against each other to both be able to fit.

Harry laid his head on Tom’s chest, and Tom stroked his fingers through his hair as the minutes passed by in almost complete darkness, until Tom’s arm grew tired and his movements faltered. Harry leaned up then and pressed their lips together softly, once, twice, and whispered for Tom to, _“Sleep.”_

Tom fell asleep before him, as Harry had hoped he would, and, to his great delight, Tom _did_ snore. Not very loudly or obtrusively, true—nothing like Neville’s honking—but enough to be noticeable. His snores were soft and mostly even so as not to be irritating to Harry’s ears.

Truth be told, Harry was lulled by the noise in contrast to the complete silence surrounding them, so used to falling asleep with some kind of sound in his Gryffindor room as he was.

But that was hardly the point.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this, and have a moment, I'd really appreciate if you left me a comment! thank you <3
> 
> hit me up on [tumblr](https://padraigendragon.tumblr.com/)!


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